All the way home, I cursed myself for lying, my hair freshly washed and curled in beach waves that were beginning to droop from the rain. I stood outside my apartment, not wanting to open the door, flipping the key back and forth between my thumb and forefinger.
I just had to get through the next few hours, and then I was going to take charge.
It didn’t change how much I despised my mom. There was nothing more to say. She’d thrown down the gauntlet and then shown up out of nowhere, her hair done in some weird seventies Farah Fawcett style, and wearing tight jeans. She resembled the twenty-something version of herself I’d seen in pictures.
Great. She’s having some sort of midlife crisis, and my love life is the innocent bystander.
“Hi, Mom,” I said, opening my door. She was the one curled up on my couch, listening to rock and roll and drinking coffee. Not me.
“You look great, Charleston. Let’s see what you’re wearing. He’ll be here soon.”
“I’m not really up for turning this into a big fashion show. I’m going to get dressed and wait in my bedroom.”
Not bothering to remove my wet jacket, I stopped in the kitchen and filled a glass with Pellegrino and stomped back to my bedroom. Of course, my mother had spread out in my living area.
An hour later, I heard the buzzer and my mom yelling into the intercom.
I made my way out in a pair of skinny jeans, knee-high boots, and an eggplant-colored blouse. The event we were going to was a faux picnic, held inside, and only eighty-five percent work-related, like everything in Manhattan. I didn’t think the occasion called for flannel, so I opted for business casual.
My mom threw open my door. “Garrett,” she said, her voice practically a coo as she greeted him before she called out, “Charli, he’s here. Your date.” Her voice carried through my small condo.
I felt like saying,I can see that, but I wasn’t an ornery teenager. Just back to being a bitch.
Garrett stepped inside and smiled at me. “Charli, thanks so much for coming with me.”
He was stuffed into one of those tight flannel shirts with the big pockets and rhinestone buttons. He looked so stupid, like a freaking idiot whose secretary dressed him.
“You look great,” he told me as my mom smiled at us with approval, sipping a Bloody Mary.
I wanted to roll my eyes. “Thank you. Ready?”
He held out his arm, but I didn’t take it.
“’Bye, gang!” my mom called out, so cheerful now that she’d gotten her way.
I didn’t bother saying good-bye to her. Honestly, I hoped she was gone when I got back.
“Oh, Charli, come here,” she called out before we were out the door. “One sec, Garrett.”
Of course, she needed the last word.
“You’re taking the pill right?” she whispered into my hair. “Feel free to go back to his place.”
“Enough,” I replied through clenched teeth.
I met Garrett in the hall and we made our way to the lobby. It seemed to take all his strength to pull open the outer door, and I wondered what he looked like under those clothes. Probably a scrawny little boy-man.
I was cringing to myself when I heard a familiar voice.
“Charli?”
I looked up from the floor. “Layton? What? How?”
I fell over each word, landing on a new question each time. We stood still under the awning, protecting us from the pouring rain but not the impeding shame as we stared at each other.
My “date” shifted at my side. “Excuse me? I’m Garrett.”
Oh, now he decides to act like a man?
